Transpiration
by grandis-dans-les-bois
Summary: Sometimes she gets lost at sea.


Her first time dissolving had come with the rise of a tidal wave.

She was in pain, in terror. A young child, dirty and alone. An odd child, one no one wanted to take in even with all the goodness of the world in their heart.

Eye infection going strong, a bruised hip from a bad run in and a stuttering heart from days of choking on smog, she was a sight for no eyes. The only thing she loved about herself was her hair, as blue as the sea she felt so drawn to and shining underneath all the grim.

A few seconds distraction was all it took for her to misstep and be sent tumbling into an alley. Most days this would've ended with a muttered curse and a new bruise, but today was the day of coronation for the new king. Any and all vangrants had been shoved out days before in preparation for the admittedly small parade that would happen later that evening. As a result, the usually empty alleyway was filled to the rim with the remnants of a local gang.

A few minutes later, she was running away in terror as a particularly rough looking member chased after her, hissing about 'cuttin' off those pretty strands and sellin' 'em- the rest of you too!'

She was backed into a corner, and searched desperately for an escape. Her breaths were shot, her body shook with exertion, she could barely see anything for the black spots dancing in her vision- and they were getting closer.

A second, another step, and tears fall. _She didn't want to die she didn't want to die she wanted to live live live-_

And suddenly, all she can feel is a rush of adrenaline and calm sweeping over her. She stilled, and jerked, and then she was gone.

She reformed a little less than five minutes later, in another town by the sea. After finally calming her shudders and shakes, she marvelled at the feeling of _togetherness_ and _unity_ she felt.

And wondered why her heartbeat pulsed with each new frothing wave.

* * *

The first time she realized that she lost something each time she dissolved was her fourth or fifth try.

Unlike all the others, this one was done on purpose.

She closed her eyes tightly and clenched her hands. A deep breath in. Breathe out. Feel the waves pulsing beneath her skin, filling her ears with the white noise of shifting sand and crashing waves. Floating weightless, cushioned by the feel of the ocean supporting her and making her stronger. She knows and breathes the sea. She is the sea.

And she was gone again, surprising the nearby cat in the alley left behind.

When the scary rush of being water was gone and she had all her bearings, she realized there was a gaping hole in her heart.

She also lost a bit of her pinkie finger, but that seemed insignificant when faced with the piece of her humanity lost forever.

* * *

When asked later by friends, she described dissolving as letting go. It's amazing because of the unrivaled freedom it offers, with the ability to go almost anywhere. It's also scary, because suddenly she's not longer her, no longer anything. Her sentience is gone, her life is gone. She's just a few drops in a huge sea.

And then she comes back, and that's almost worse. She's herself again, for sure, but not quite. She lost something while being that big blue sea. Something that she won't ever regain.

* * *

The first major loss physically caused by dissolving was a little later, when she had become used to it. Before then, she was used to losing a little of her hair, or a toenail, or maybe even a tooth.

This time, she lost her hand.

Her whole hand. All was left was a gushing red stump, and a deep piercing pain that went straight through her soul. And then she was disabled, she was officially a liability. She couldn't fight, wouldn't be able to without losing more of herself.

This didn't last long. After some therapy, support, and experimentation, she managed to fashion herself a beautiful hand out of water. It shimmered and left shadow wetness on everything it touched. It worked though, and that was enough for her to keep fighting.

She never told anyone, but her real pain didn't come from her hand. It came from the dark hole inside that left her screaming for light.

* * *

She didn't dissolve for a long time after. The next time would be the last time.

* * *

She woke up that day with a noose around her neck. She knew it. The sea knew it. Those her around her...didn't.

Her wonderful friends, with their beautiful souls and shining eyes, took her into battle, no matter how much she tried to excuse herself.

She fought, though, because she had a duty, an obligation to those who had accepted her when no one else would.

When the one who had saved her, the one who had reached out his hand, was an inch away from death by a scythe, she didn't hesitate.

She took a breath and let go, trickling through space and time until she reached the sharp edge of the blade, still glinting ominously in the watery light.

* * *

I'm really tired.

And yes, she saved Grey.


End file.
